Cinderella
by Jyocka
Summary: Oneshot. The orignal, untwisted version of Cinderella that you all could recite in your sleep. Written for Celestial Seraphim. Enjoy!


**Disclaimer: I don't own Cinderella…it belongs in the hearts of a hundred thousand children.**

**This was originally the original version of Cinderella, written on a request by Celestial Seraphim…this is dedicated to you, dude!**

**Anyway, it got out of hand, so I thought I'd just post it. Enjoy, even though you'll be able to predict each line.

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Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a man and his wife. They were quite happy, and wealthy too. Time passed, and the wife gave birth to a beautiful baby daughter. The little family were happy, but alas, it was not to last. The mother was terribly sick after the nasty business of giving birth, and died soon after, leaving her miserable husband a widower, with a child to single handedly raise.

The years passed, and the girl grew into a beautiful, sweet tempered girl. She was kind to the animals in the house, small as they may be, and was very close to her father. Eventually, he remarried to a lady whose husband has also passed away. They married quickly, and the stepmother moved in with her two daughters, Rebecca and Anastasia.

At first, the girl lived with her father and his wife, until her father died. She was only fourteen or fifteen, and the blow devastated her. Adding to her misery, she found out her new family's real personalities – cruel, selfish and mean. Her stepmother hated her, and gave her daughters importance over her. She forced the poor girl to work in the kitchens, do the laundry, clean the floors and windows and brush the sooty fireplace. After doing the last, she was always so dark and sooty because of the cinders, that her stepsisters maliciously named her Cinderella.

Despite the hardship she had to suffer, Cinderella remained sweet and kindhearted as ever. She found her solace in singing with the birds, feeding the mice and generally avoiding the rest of her family as much as possible. A couple of years passed away like this, and Cinderella turned sixteen years old, as fair and lovely as can be imagined; she had long cascading waves of golden hair, intelligent deep blue eyes, and a tall and shapely figure. In comparison to her skinny, sour-looking sister Anastasia, with her pinched face and upturned nose, and her chubby, dull sister Rebecca, she looked the picture of flawless beauty indeed. The stepmother had not failed to notice this, and though she would never mention it, the fact that Cinderella, the worthless scullery maid outshone her daughters irked her very much.

The land in which they lived was ruled fairly and peacefully by the King, and later would be by his son, Prince Charles. All that was desired to make the aging King happy was for Charles to marry, so that before his death, he could see his grandchildren. He didn't think it would be difficult to find a maiden to marry his son; after all, Charles was the picture of desirable. He was tall, with broad shoulders and long legs. A head of golden brown curls, eyes a deep dark brown were the envy of all in the land, maidens and men alike. His countenance was generally known to be serious, kind, generous and honest. The King and Queen were very proud of him, and were certain that he would choose the perfect bride. So they decided to throw him a ball, where all the maidens in the land would be invited, and have him choose one for his wife by the end of the night. The Prince agreed, and the invitations were written and issued. In the royal castle, the preparations for a ball began.

In Cinderella's house, a large, old-fashioned manor full of rustic charms that Cinderella delighted in and her step-sisters grumbled about, all was a flurry when the invitation to the ball came. The stepmother dreamed of the Prince choosing her daughters to dance with, and of course end up marrying. The stepsisters each dreamed of the Prince choosing them above the rest of the maidens, and of course ended up arguing over which one of them he would choose. They wasted no time in worrying about what to wear, and cries of distress were frequently heard throughout the manor, as they searched through hundreds of dresses. The more they searched, the more dissatisfied they became.

As for Cinderella, she continued as normal, cleaning the house and helping to cook the meals. But in heart, she felt a soft pricking of pain, for she wanted to go to the ball as much as every maiden in the land. It wasn't fair, she thought furiously, as she scrubbed the floors, that every girl in the land could go, but not her. And she wasn't even a proper servant! She had ever right to be there, as much as the girls.

The night of the ball, Cinderella ran around, helping the girls crimp their hair to perfection (in their opinion), pressing their dresses and pulling their corsets tight as possible, until her finger were red and smarting. They finally declared themselves satisfied and left. Cinderella, drained and tired, sat down on the fireplace hearth and finally let herself cry. She cried because she missed her father, she cried because she had no dress, and she cried because she could not go to the ball. After a while, she noticed a glowing through her tears, and dried them to see what the matter was. A soft effusion of light, and then poof! A slim, old woman with soft grey curls and a kind face appeared and smiled down kindly at the crying girl.

"My child, whatever is the matter?" She asked

"I-" Cinderella tried to get the words out. "I- I cant go the ball." She whispered, feeling foolish and miserable and fascinated all at once.

"Why, don't be silly, is that all? Of course you can. You must go, I insist upon it!" Said the strange apparition fussily.

"I don't mean to sound rude, but who are you?" Asked Cinderella, still feeling foolish.

"Well, of course, I am sorry, we've not been introduced. I am," the lady said, puffing up a little, "Your fairy godmother."

"I have a fairy godmother!" In wonder, Cinderella stared and felt herself begin to hope.

"Firstly, we need a carriage…I saw some pumpkins on the way which will do splendidly…and with a flick of a wand she produced from thin air, she summoned a fat orange pumpkin. With another flick, the pumpkin transformed into a carriage outside. Cinderella ran out to see it, and saw six foot men which looked suspiciously like her mice friends surrounding a glistening white carriage, glowing slightly in the cool night. Four white steeds, which could have been lizards in their last life. They tossed their manes, anxious to be off. She clapped her hands in delight, and thanked her fairy godmother.

"Oh, don't thank me yet…you won't be ready until you have a suitable dress…lets see…matching the carriage, I think." A flick of the wand later, Cinderella found herself in a flowing white creation that began with a low scoop neck, a tapered waist, and then a flowing full skirt. As she twirled in joy, she saw a delicate white train following her. One last swish gave a fragile silver necklace and glass slippers, which completed her joy. Unable to thank the fairy godmother enough, she stepped into the carriage.

"Now, wait a minute, listen a minute: The spell holding the carriage, footmen, dress and necklace will break at the stroke of twelve tonight. You must be back before midnight, Cinderella. Do you understand?" Cinderella promised to be back, and then she was off, daintily fluttering a goodbye with her handkerchief.

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The ball was in full swing when she arrived, and she saw that it was everything she had dreamed of. The castle was full of light and gay music; the people were eager to enjoy themselves, and no one told her to clean the dishes or sweep the hearth. There was enough food for all, and once she spotted her stepfamily and was careful to avoid them.

The prince was dancing on the dance floor, and she couldn't keep her eyes off him. She watched how he thanked every maiden for every dance, and how he brought drinks to his tired partners. She watched his tailcoat fly as he swirled around, doing his duty graciously to every guest.

She finally caught his eye, and after hastily thanking his final partner, she watched him approach her corner. Her heart began to thump irregularly, and she felt her palms sweat.

He was finally there, and she felt herself turning red as she felt his eyes scrutinize her.

"May I have this dance?" He asked in a low voice, no smile on his face. She detected a tremble in his voice, and it gave her courage.

"It would be my pleasure."

And they were off. For the rest of the night, they twirled in each other's arms, blissfully unaware of their surroundings and the people eyeing them with suspicion. Who is that girl? The people wondered. What is her name? So altered was her appearance, with glowing cheeks and radiant eyes, and thick flowing hair and light feet and smiles that were no longer forced, that not even her stepfamily recognized her, although they were jealous of the maiden who was hogging 'their' prince, and threw her many grouchy glances.

As the clock ticked ever closer to midnight, Cinderella and Prince Charles sat out in front of the castle, on a stone bench, trying to regain their breath. They talked for a while, about anything and everything – just nothing about Cinderella's past. The Prince had never felt more in love, and he touched her face as she fell silent. His face moved closer than ever to hers, his eyes closing, and they were inches away from a kiss when the first gong! of midnight struck, and Cinderella, abruptly pulled out from her dream, jumped up in a panic. Without explanation or goodbye, only a frantic "I must leave! Oh, I _am_ sorry!"

And with that romantic parting, she was off, running down the steps of the castle as though the hounds of hell were chasing her, leaving the poor Prince calling after her in distress.

She was intent on reaching her carriage; she didn't even notice that she left a slipper on the steps, which the Prince later picked up. She didn't notice the guards following her on the prince's desperate instructions. She just jumped into the carriage, which was beginning to look distinctly orange, and she was moving again, as fast as the horses could possibly go in the direction of home, where safety and work and loneliness awaited her.

She was almost home when the last gong of midnight struck, distant yet echoing over the land, and she abruptly found herself, in a poof of smoke, on the ground, with a pumpkin tumbling down the road to the manor. A bunch of mice scampered after it, and the lizards disappeared into the surrounding woods. Cinderella was no longer the mysterious beauty in white, admired by the Prince, the belle of the ball, but a lowly scullery maid, on her bottom in the middle of a dark, dirty road. Her torn, raggedy brown dress looked shabbier than ever, and her necklace, too, was gone. All that remained from the magical evening, all that remained to convince her that she had not dreamed it all, was a lone glass slipper on her foot.

Wearily, she picked herself up and went home. She tried not to think about the prince, but she knew he would soon forget all about her and find another beautiful, accomplished kind lady who would love him forever and would not be a servant, but an accomplished young lady, worthy of his title and his land.

Not, in short, someone like her.

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The next morning, Cinderella heard the squealing of her step-sisters and dreading waking up and having to listen them go on about the ball.

And go on they did; they tried to make her jealous by telling her how many times he danced with them, and complimented their dresses. But it had no effect on Cinderella, for her secret was like a small talisman of hope in her chest. It was _she _had been the most sought after maiden, she who was asked for dance after dance by the prince. The stepsisters' lies were easy to listen to, and every time they made up another fib, a small triumphant smile lit up her face.

In mid-afternoon, a messenger came knocking at the door, and when the doorman opened the door, the stepsisters nearly had a heart attack…in their doorway stood no other than the prince! Listening from behind a pillar, Cinderella heard him ask to meet every young lady in the manor, and heard him request each of them to try on a glass slipper. This was the last house in the town, he said tiredly yet with determination. He had roamed the town all night, in hopes of finding _me!_ thought Cinderella, her heart pounding.

She watched with growing excitement as the shoe proved too small for one sister, and too narrow for the other. "Is there no other lady in this house?" Asked the prince, the desperation evident in his voice.

"Your majesty, there are only a few scullery maids who live downstairs. They are of no consequence. The real ladies are only these before you." Said Cinderella's stepmother, her voice oily.

_This is where I must act_, thought Cinderella.

"I am a young lady as well, sir," She said, stepping out from behind the pillar. Her heart was beating very quickly, as she took in the Prince's look of instant recognition and hope, the enraged faces on her stepfamily.

"YOU?! You were not at the ball. You were not invited! How dare you go, against my orders?!" Screeched the stepmother rudely, shooting sparks at her with her eyes.

"The invitation was to the ladies of this manor. I belonged at the ball as much as you did!" Retorted Cinderella. She had never felt so bold, but the way the prince was looking at her, she felt like she could do anything.

"Madam, please try on this slipper. But only if you want." Said the prince, looking deep into Cinderella's eyes. They both already knew the slipper would slip. But before anything else could happen, the scheming stepmother, so close to seeing her dream slip away, jerked the Prince's arm. The slipper fell to the floor and smashed into a thousand pieces of glass.

Everyone stared at the remains of the slipper, like staring hard at it would bring it back.

"I guess, now, you can marry someone else, not someone who fits the slipper, your Majesty." Said the stepmother triumphantly.

The prince said nothing, staring only at Cinderella.

"Well…," mused Cinderella. "I can still try on the slipper."

"What nonsense. I knew that you head was full of fluff, you foolish girl!" Fumed Anastasia.

"Yes, how do plan on doing that, if the slipper is _broken?_" Asked Rebecca sarcastically.

"Because," Said Cinderella, slipping her hand into her pocket, "I have the _other_ slipper."

The look on the Prince's face! The shock on the stepmother's! The hate on the stepsisters!

It was a priceless moment. The Prince knelt in front of Cinderella, and taking the slipper from her, slipped her foot gently into it. It fit perfectly, for it had been _made_ for her.

"I knew it. The moment I saw you, I knew it," Whispered the Prince, and scooped her up into his arms. She opened her mouth to say something, but it was too late, because the Prince bent his head down to hers and kissed her, holding her close to him.

And yes, they lived happily ever after.

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In case you couldn't tell… 

- THE END -

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**Thank you for reading my very unedited little one-shot. CS, I hope it was what you asked for, albeit a bit long.**

**As you can tell, I love story challenges, so if anyone has one they'd like me to write, bring it on!**

**Also, please review, if you want.**

**_Thanks _**

**_xxx_**

**Jyocka**


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